Disasterology
by theconshecalledhappy
Summary: After attempting suicide, Kellin is 'saved' and forced to live in Clairemont Mental Facility a few states away from home. Vic has been in the mental facility for what seems like forever, when it's only been two years. He wants to end it all, end everything about his existence, until a blue eyed boy begins to cloud his mind. Will they save each other, or be there own disaster?
1. Chapter 1: Part 1

_This was it._ One final move and it was all over. The pain, the suffering, _the torture_. With one vast cut, my soul would be saying it's final goodbyes to the world by the blood leaking from my veins into the open air. No one _remaining_ in this world loved me. After my mom died of emphysema, my dad had gone in to a full psycho mode. He went ballistic, taking out all anger on me specifically; not the punching bag, not the wall, me. After previously 'disowning' my aunt and uncle (my mom's decision), my dad invited them back into my life, to fulfill his plan in making my life hell. Of course, with the eventful death of my mother, my life had already been a mad house. Now, it was much, _much_ worse. Daily, my aunt and uncle raped me, with my fortunate luck, they were in to any and all BDSM shit. Everything hurt about it, the whips, chains, choking, and doubled pain added to the already continuing torture.

No one to love, and no one to love my damned soul. I was a stray, or the outcast, of all social groups in high school. I am the human punching bag, my only importance to everyone. Even the girls beat up on me. Not that my life could get much worse, but nobody on the earth knew of my 'queerness', as they would call it. I am gay. Homosexual, queer, femme, faggot, butch, whatever word could possibly be related to being gay. It's who I am. But being who I am is unfortunately unaccepted in society, continuing with consistent bullying, and targeting. So I keep that as a secret.

My skin is wrecked, torn into scars. All over my thighs, wrists, even my stomach, is a plentiful amount of scars, each with it's personal feeling and moment. Burns, cuts, any type of self harm imaginable really. My gut was beginning to thin out, revealing my wide hip bones and small rib cage, due to recently becoming anorexic. I could never _be_ bulimic, no matter how many times my fingers reached down into the depths of my throat, they return only with a gag and a regretfully sharp intake of air. No matter how much water I drink, food I eat, it all stays down and goes out the other end. But what can you even make come up when all you eat is air, most of the time?

I took one final, deep breath. Picking up the freshly sharpened blade, I took it to my skin. Slowly, I let it lay onto my skin. _One...Two… Three...Go_. My hand drug the blade up the length of my left arm. The blood oozed out quickly, gushing out and off the sides of my scar covered arm. I made sure to bring it all the way back to my inner elbow, to ensure the death which was soon to come, just in case there happened to be any disturbances.

Suddenly, my bedroom door flew open, revealing someone dressed as a doctor on the other side. I realized I had unintentionally fallen to the ground, slamming my head on the floor in the process. Why a doctor had been in my house, I didn't know. But it was unfortunate. A small smirk formed on my face, from ear to ear, I could feel my body give in to the soul being captured away to the dead. I felt myself fading, soon my eyes were unable to stay open any longer. I released my final breath and welcomed death.

 _Take me away, please._

* * *

 **A/N: Sorry it was so short, I jut wanted to post a quick start to the story! Part 2 might be just as short, if not a bit longer. But every chapter continuing on will be LONG, trust me! Haha.**

 **Also, I do plan on bringing in other band members and famous people into the story, but you won't know who!~ Tehe~! :* I love you guys, and I have decided that after I post the second part of this, I want at least 2 comments and 5 reads before I post anymore, please! Make my stories known! (:**


	2. Chapter 2: Part 2

_Take me away please, take me away._

My thoughts were clouded with ideas of what hell was like, or wherever I was. Was it like the supposed fictional world of the Underworld? I didn't feel like I was in torment. The feeling around me felt crisp, cool. Breathing in deeply, my lungs swelled up with air, and then pushed it back out. My fingers fumbled with a cool fabric, rolling it in between my fingers. I felt it as if I was feeling for the first time in my tragic life. I circled my head around whatever it was against, it was rather comfortable, but still a bit hard. Hearing my hair rub against the surface, I stopped to think. Wiggling my toes, I felt they were covered in something soft and plush. A wind suddenly swept up my body, giving me shivers to run all the way down my spine. I felt the goosebumps form on the top of my skin. The squeak of a door hinge alerted me, distracting me from my thoughts. To no avail, I attempted to open my eyes. They seemed to be glued shut, almost like I didn't have the strength to lift my lids to see the world around me.

 _Kellin open your eyes, **open them.**_

Whatever strength I suddenly had in me, I put all of it into opening my eyes. Trying to open them felt like trying to open a jar of jam without twisting the top off. _It felt impossible._ But I continued to work, screaming in my head to get my brain to work with me. Soon, I found red in my eyes, they weren't open, yet, but I was conscious enough to know that there was a bright light in the room which was being shined in my eye.

 _Come on Kellin!_

Every muscle in my body worked to get them open. And finally, they opened, only to find a blinding light waiting for me on the other side. Quickly, I shut them again, silently scolding myself for shutting them after finally getting them open. The red which loomed into my closed eyes dimmed to black. I must have unknowingly said something aloud to get their attention to turn them off. I forced them open one more time, this time less strength needing to be used.

"Is this hell?" I managed to mumble out. Who knew if the person actually understood me. Really taking a look around, I saw I was in the hospital. This was worse _than hell._ Echoing footsteps sounded into the room. The pounding hurt my ears, and I quickly went to cover them, feeling a sharp pain on the inside of my left arm. How did I not succeed, was all I could think.

"Hello?" My tone was demanding, full of attitude. But at this point in time, that didn't matter. I just needed to get my point across and receive some answers.

"Kellin? Kellin Quinn Bost-te-wick?" Obviously the guy couldn't read. It was just Bostwick. But the last name itself was unbearable; my dad's last name. I really thought people were done with that stupid last name. Is this you Lucifer?

"It's just," I groaned as I sat up from the bed. My back and neck ached ferociously. "Just Kellin Quinn." I used my right hand to rub the back of my neck. The nurse gave me a look of sympathy as she helped me to sit back up against the now un-reclined bed. I heard a series of whispers as I tried to ease the throbbing pain in my neck, which was counteracting into my head. Breathing in deeply once more, I noticed the harsh stinging in my throat and I coughed. My lungs felt like the empty corner of an old barn, cobwebbed, dusty, and withholding leftover flies. I shut my eyes, only for a moment, just for myself. With my pounding headache and aching neck and back, I needed to just sit for a moment.

After a few moments of silence, the headache calmed down, and the pain eased itself. When I opened my eyes, my aunt, uncle, and bastard of father stood at the edge of my bed.

"Get. Out." I breathed out both words, yearning for them to leave. I sent them the biggest death glare I could conjure up. My eyes closed, trying to hold back my anger. But when I reopened them, to find nobody had moved, I got furious. "I said GET OUT!" My plead quickly turned into a cracky yell, due to not speaking for… a while? My aunt returned an unnecessary glare and turned on her heel to leave the room, dragging my pissed of uncle and father with her. This really was hell. I wasn't dead, but I sure as fuck wanted to be burning in the fiery pit of hell, than living this stupid life.

"Mr. Quinn." The doctor pulled my attention towards him, and away from my relatives. "How old are you?" Was he stupid? Weren't doctors supposed to know everything about you after your parents brought in your birth certificate and all other needed information? Although, it did make sense. I had no remembrance of getting here, maybe they expected me to have a little more memory loss than I really did.

"I'm 17." My words were forced out from behind my sealed shut lips. Maybe if I cooperated as expected of me, they wouldn't send me to the home of the crazies. I wasn't insane, nor was I crazy. The man nodded in approval, as if he needed to approve of my age for it to be true.

"Do you know where you are, Mr. Quinn?" Such fancy choice of words for such an unimportant person. I was getting tired of the formalities.

"Just call me Kellin. And I'm gonna guess the hospital?" My question was sarcastic, and faked a toothy grin afterwards. The doctor chuckled silently and sketched some words down into the clipboard in front of him. Even though I had no remembrance of coming here, I knew I was in a hospital. This wasn't the first time.

"Okay, Mr. Quinn." He emphasized the 'n' in my last name. Fuck you mister. "Just hang out here for a moment, and I will be right back." Before I could shout anything at the man, who couldn't call me by my first name, he had already rounded the corner of the door. I sighed and let my head fall back against the pillow which helped to comfort my neck. Again, I heard whispering outside my door, becoming louder with every deep syllable needing to be pronounced. I looked around the room, no flowers, no notes, nothing to remind me that I'm loved. Damn. My eyes lingered down to the inside of my left forearm. I admired the long cut I had made, behind the stitches and butterfly bandages holding it together. My mind switched gears suddenly, and all I wanted to do was tear away the butterfly stitches and rip the skin from it's other half. Let myself bleed out while they talked. Too soon, the doctor and nurse came back into the room. Couldn't I just leave already? The smell of the hospital was beginning to make me queasy, and I didn't need to be here anymore. I'm all stitched up and fine. I _attempted_ and failed, big deal. Let me leave.

The look on the incoming doctor's face was not one for a sign of positivity. As soon as the nurse came in, puppy dogging behind him, my family trailed behind with looks of pure happiness. Their faces gleamed with ecstaticness, how fucking _jolly_. Something wasn't right. The doctor folded his hands in front of his big belly and looked me dead in the eye, he was serious now.

"Your dad is going to tell you this news due to him feeling that you would best take it from him." His look told me he was sorry for whatever was about to be said. Rolling my eyes, I looked towards my father. My aunt was holding back a laugh. _Bitch._

"We are so sorry Kellin." I could just feel the lies seeping out from behind his pearly white teeth. "But we are sending you to stay at Clairemont. We can't stand that you're hurting yourself on our watch, and it needs to be stopped." I could hear the slightest sound of spit flying from his smirking face. You could tell all sincerity attempted was a fat lie. How could the doctor or nurse not see that? My eyes widened, more of shock and the fact of being scared. Rumors go around about how bad that place is, I couldn't go there…

"Please don't send me there, I won't do it again! I was just angry and I felt hurt, I promise I'm okay now. But please, just let me go home." I sat up from the bed, basically crawling to my relatives. My aunt's hand was on the edge of the bed, my fingers accidentally swiped past her. She pulled away with a look of disgust written all over her face.

"Oh, sweetie." My aunt stepped forward, probably trying to cover up her sincere hate for me. She placed her hand on my cheek. I flinched and I turned angry immediately. "Clairemont is going to be your new home." How could anybody not see that he was a lying bitch? The anger was now impossible to hold down.

All my emotions came out as I started screaming at them, "GO TO FUCKING HELL, ALL OF YOU. EMOTIONLESS BASTARDS! FUCK YOU!" The doctor and nurse were taken back at my harsh words. I didn't care though, I continued to scream t the top of my lungs, my voice needed to be heard! "I HATE ALL OF YOU. You wanna know why I tried to fucking kill myself?! Because of all of you dick faces! MY OWN FUCKING AUNT AND UNCLE. YOU RAPE ME EVERY GOD DAMN NIGHT YOU CAN! AND YOU!" My words were now directed towards my fucking dad.

"YOU WERE THE WORST OF IT ALL! After mom died, you took everything out on me! All the anger and your sadness, ON ME! WHAT FUCKING FATHER DOES THAT TO HIS OWN FUCKING SON?!" I realized tears were draining down my pale face when I felt something wet drip down my chin. Why couldn't my tears just drown me, kill me in my own fucking puddle of sadness. Before I realized it, my hands were grasped around my dad's neck. He stood in a choking fit. Hearing the screams, nurses from around the hallway came running into the room. Pushing past everyone, they shoved me back onto the bed. I thrashed around, begging for them to let me go and tear the bastard's head off. After _everything_ he'd done to me. I felt hands holding me down by my shoulders, chest, wrists, and thighs. _This_ was torture. Fear spread from my head all around my shaking body. The mattress was incredibly hard, and I couldn't fucking move.

"Do it! He won't calm down!" Somebody shouted over my exasperated screams. How in the hell was I supposed to calm down when I was being held down against my will, unable to move anything? The fear was beginning to paralyze me as I cried harder. My doctor shouted things towards my family as they began to ramble on about how I was just crazy. Finally, the doctor took them out of the room, I only knew due to it quieting.

"PLEASE! STOP!" I begged to no avail. One of the nurses who held down my left wrist ran and grabbed something from one of the drawers, and ran back to me. She pressed the needle against my neck, and I screamed out in pain. I felt it go through me, exclude it's liquid, and then be taken out. Immediately, my vision started to get blurry; the kind of blurry you got when you moved too fast for your head to comprehend. My arms and legs started to feel numb, they still moved, but at slower and less excessive rates. Rapidly, I fell limp against the bed. The last thing I saw was my nurses sighing in relief, one having a panic attack in the corner of the room. This was madness.

About a half hour(ish) later, I woke up. My head ached, and I felt a bruise on the side of my neck. I went to lift my hand to feel where she injected me, but found I couldn't. I could control my movements, but I was locked down. My head tilted up, and failed. I found that every limb which could move was tied down to the bed. For, what felt like 20 minutes, I thrashed around the bed. When someone finally came in, my teeth unclenched, and I found the my forehead and waist had been rubbed raw, while my wrists and ankles bled where the fabric tore through into my skin. How could they not believe me?

"Kellin Quinn?" My doctor stood on the other side of the bed, taking note of what the fabric locking me down had done to me.

"Yeah." My voice was severely cracking. "That's me." Tears started to flood, but I quickly barricaded them away. I needed to be strong to show I was sane.

"After your _arm injury_ heals," He emphasized on 'arm' and 'injury', probably denying suicide. "We will have you taken directly to Clairemont Mental Facility." Those three words brought me to tears. His voice showed no sign of sympathy, of course. One of the nurses came in and started searching through the cabinets behind him. Quickly looking around his shoulder, he knew she was busy and walked to me. His face bent to my level and I felt his breath against my ear.

" _I believe you. I'll find you a way out of this._ " He believed me? How could he believe me and still have me sent away to a place which didn't need me. I stared as he left the room, my mouth gaping open. Eyes wide in shock, I needed to think about what was happening here.

"Alright, I'm going to undo your bonds on your forehead and waist so you can take these pills. It will ease the pain in your arm." I nodded, my eyes blurring due to tears welling up. She undid my bonds, and put the pills in my mouth, then tilting my chin to pour a cup of water down my throat. Ensuring that I actually took them, she took a flashlight to my mouth and asked me to lift my tongue.

"All done." She strapped me back down, ignoring the forehead strap. Thank _god._

 ***skip a few weeks ahead.***

Today was my last day in the hospital. I no longer had to sleep with bonds to lock me down, which prevented me from hurting myself or anyone else. Currently, I was being escorted down the hall of the hospital, on my way to the side exit of the hospital. As I got to the doors in which I would leave for the mental asylum, I stopped. _This is where hell begins._ I was shoved forward by a security guard behind me, ensuring that I made it safely to the facility.

As we drove to Clairemont, I thought about what the doctor had said. After he told me about believing me, he denied ever whispering in my ear. Anytime I got the chance alone with him, I asked. He said that that never happened, that it had been a dream. And every day, he left with a wink and a frown laid upon his sorrowful face. He pitied me, maybe I was crazy. Had I really dreamt of his secret whisper to me? It was driving my mind crazy.

Before I knew it, we had arrived at Clairemont. The guard unbuckled me and shoved me out of the car. _Dick_. He held me by the inside of my elbow, and led me up the steps into hell.

 _Goodbye real world._

* * *

 **A/N: Whoaa man. That was intense... lol. Poor Kellybaby :(**

 **Next post at 15 reads and 2 reviews! Please! I want to make this story better by hearing your opinions! Plus, the reviews give me confidence to keep going (: Have a great day beauties! 3 :3**


	3. Chapter 3

Before I knew it, we had arrived at Clairemont. The guard unbuckled me and shoved me out of the car. Dick. He held me by the inside of my elbow, and led me up the steps into hell.

Goodbye real world.

* * *

"And this is where you will be sleeping and spending a lot of your time." My supposed 'caretaker', 'therapist', whatever you wanna call him, showed me into my prison. Already, they had forced me out of my clothes, which actually didn't take much forcing, and gave me new clothes to wear. Currently I was in an awkward color of white/yellow cotton clothes, and white boxers. They told me they had previously been worn by another, and I could tell by the rather large bleached spot on my side.

I stared into what I now had to call 'home'. Thinking about it now, I never really had a home. A home is a place where you should feel loved, cared for, or at peace. My supposed home was full of chaos, consistent beatings, and absolutely no peace. That was not a home meant for anyone, except for the selfish human beings whom I am forced to call my 'relatives'. This supposed home consisted of a bed in the corner, and a wooden side table, completed with dull grey walls.

"Kellin?" My thoughts were disrupted by my counselor. I stared at him, forcing my eyes to make contact with his own. "Are you ready to continue?" His voice showed that he didn't care. He was only here to earn money, only here for a job which needed being done. No sympathy was in his shaky voice. He had to have been at least 60, no less. He extended his arm out, persuading me to walk out in front of him. So I did.

"This room is where you will find entertainment of the sorts. For now, I will leave you in here to socialize with other people, or just get used to the environment. I'll be back in about 30 minutes." My eyes wandered around the room, carefully looking at everything in front of me. There were a few people in here. Two people sat playing mancala at a corner table. One of them continuously looked at me, going back and forth between his game. I could see that he must've been my age, if not younger, and he wore normal teenage clothes. The other guy sitting across from him seemed pretty normal, dressed as the average person as well. As my eyes moved on, I saw a guy sitting on the opposite of the room, talking to a ginger in the opposite chair, both of them also fully clothed in normal clothes, or what was normal to me. He sat in a chair, depression written all over his face. He had a little longer than shoulder-length, thin and brown hair. The boy's eyes were like Dove chocolate, they looked so sweet, innocent, but tainted with intimacy. His skin was tanner than everyone else's in the room, yet seemed more pale than what he should naturally be, and he had a muscular build. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up to above his elbows, revealing large sets of lines up and down the inside of his arms. Anyone knew what those were, especially me. Maybe we were the same, thrown in for a failed suicide. He had on a black t-shirt, dark blue skinny jeans, black vans with a brown rim, being completed by his Neff beanie. The girl sitting opposite him wore a black sweater with a giant skull on the front, and red plaid pajama bottoms.

"Hello?" Blinking out of my gaze, I noticed the boy had just talked to me, and his friend was staring towards me. His voice was beautiful, even through one word. He was hunched over, as if he had been trying to catch my attention this whole time; elbows rested on his knees. Looking towards the girl, I saw she was eyeing me up and down. I was beginning to feel even more self-conscious about my appearance by the minute.

"Uh, hi. Sorry, I was just- I mean I just," I saw the corner of his lip twitch up into a quick smile, which faded away almost instantly, like he wasn't allowed to do such things. I was surprised I even noticed it, it had appeared and disappeared so quickly. Still, the ginger aimed her rather cynical glare at me. I could see through to her worry-filled eyes, masked by her, hate? How could someone hate me so soon already...

"Don't explain yourself. I space out all the time. You're new here?" Seriously, his voice. I couldn't get over the sound of it, though he did speak like he was in some sort of Mexican gang. Words flowed from his lips so elegantly, like music to my ears. Responding, I finally nodded at his assumption. "My name's Vic." He said. Unlike most people, he didn't throw out his arm to shake my hand, nor did he get up for a hug or nod his head, he just blinked and waited for a similar response. I felt my palms get sweaty too quickly. If we ever got together our ship name would've been Vellin. No, Vicin. Still no. Kell...ic? Kellic. Kellic sounds right. Oh my god Kellin, shut up. You're pathetic. My voices continuously whispered in my ears, making me shiver.

"M-my name's Kellic." Crap. Did you really just say that? You are such a little bitch. "I meant Kellin? Yeah, Kellin." Way to fucking go. I questioned my own name, like I previously had forgotten it and regained the memory of such. Mentally, I was repeatedly slapping myself for feeling the way I do, and acting so stupid.

"Are you positive, Kellin?" The way he said my name, it was pure delicacy. It sounded right, like his voice was meant to speak my oddly chosen name. Sugar coated the word when pronounced from a tongue such as his. He could probably sense my awkwardness, hence the blood rushing to my cheeks. My knuckles curled inward to the center of my palms tightly, the white of bone being pressured appearing upon the surface of my skin. "You okay?" Vic asked me. I realized his hand was touching my own; rubbing it to be precise. It was so sensual, I could feel the energy from his body flowing through to mine perfectly, like a fitted puzzle piece. It excited me, making my mind wander with several different ideas forming amongst my brain. The skin to skin contact was exhilarating. Unable to form any sort of sound nor breath itself, the feeling of being breathless. I was completely ignoring the fact of how the ginger looked ready to pounce off of the floor.

"Mr. Fuentes," A man's voice boomed through any sound barrier available and into my small ears. It grew louder as I realized they were walking up to me from behind, their loud footsteps bouncing up and down against the walls. "You know the rules. No contact for more than three seconds. It is time for you to leave." Vic's eye contact was refused to be broken, he looked straight through to my soul. My broken soul. As the man, probably his personal counselor, pulled him away, I kept my stare locked with his. Still, my gaze remained towards the exit, even after his body had disappeared around the corner. Whispers were to be heard, and then my counselor came in for me. I could still feel the Vic's touch on my hand.

"Alright, come with me Mr. Quinn. It is time to return to your cell." I was pressed forward by a palm laid up against my upper back. My legs moved, yet my soul and emotions stayed behind. Vic was beautiful. He seemed so immune to the world's casualties, yet I could see straight through to his pain, buried deep within. I hoped to see him soon, his very presence was overwhelmingly calming, as well as energetic. He made me feel alive. Hopefully with this place being my new home, I would see him often. But his smile. I would make a million waves in the ocean crash at once just to see his smile once more. It sent shivers down my spine at the very thought.

Suddenly, I felt a brief brush against my shoulder. "Thanks a lot. I don't trust you one bit. Stay the fuck away." My eyes widened and my heavy breathing was gulped in. She continued walking on, and then looking back for half a second, smirking. What a bitch. You are so untrustworthy Kellin. No wonder no one wants to be your friend. I reached for the inside of my palm underneath my thumb, squeezing the tender muscles. Pain would make the voices go away, it always works.

* * *

As I laid in my bed the same night, I couldn't help but shed any tears which had been barricaded in all day. Thinking of Vic held them in long enough for me to wait until my bed welcomed me into it's genuine comfort. Normally, one might've thought I would've been screaming, tearing out my hair, crying out to let me go home because I was innocent. But doing such wouldn't get me out as fast as I was wanting to leave. My right hand curled around the fabric of my pillow, my actual tears fell into my left palm, which laid underneath the side of my face. Crying onto the pillow would leave tear stains behind, they might see through to my depressed side. But what if they already had proof of my depression, and knew that something was wrong if I was perfectly okay with being locked away in an asylum... No normal person would want to be here. Right? I quickly removed my hand and let every tear I had in me land on my pillow, leaving scars behind as they were soaked into the soft cotton.

My thoughts wandered to what life would be like had I not spoken out. Maybe there would be a small chance I would've been released into the daylight again, still living with the abuse of my "home". Why wouldn't they believe me, though? I had been changed into a hospital gown, shouldn't they have seen the scars, bruises, and whatever possible mark that could be seen? I remembered what the doctor told me, his words echoing in my confused mind, 'I believe you. I'll find you a way out of this.' I was completely sure what he said had been real. If it wasn't, I would have broken down in front of Vic, understanding I had no way out.

Already, I had made pushed Vic away, even though he touched me. Or had I done that myself? And I was hated by the unrealistic, so-to-speak, bitch of a ginger. What had I done to already break someone's trust whom I had hardly no conversation with?

What I was sure I didn't understand was what drew me in so easily and quickly to the long, brown-haired boy. He was gorgeous with barely even one glance at him. His arms were so perfectly muscular, not steroid-looking, but just decently right. His face was so unbelievably captivating it wouldn't leave my mind. Even as I tried to concentrate on what the doctor had said, or thinking what life could be like if I wasn't here, Vic seemed to kidnap my thoughts and replace them with himself; metaphorically.

Sleep began to creep into my eyelids, forcing my mind to believe itself to be tired. Though, my body felt restless. Crying had left the skin holding my eyes open all swelled up. Naturally, my eyes closed to let the sleep play as a blanket over my body. However, for a minute or two, my mind kept me awake. I started to think of how much I wanted to shred my skin to pieces, and bleed out all over this very bed. No, Kellin. You need to get better. Staying here will help. Did I really want to get better though? After so long, the blade has become my only friend, it never leaves me. It's always there to comfort me, and is the only thing which can ease my pain for a short while, until it all comes rushing back again. Taunting me for more. Every damn time.

* * *

Clonk. Clonk. Clonk. My eyes opened halfway, looking around to where the noise was being perceived from. The door, someone was knocking on it.

"Mr. Quinn, are you dressed appropriately?" I heard my counselor on the other side repeating his words after every other knock. I was groaning mentally and screaming profanities at him for waking me up so early, or what felt like early.

"Yesss," I hissed behind my teeth, irritated with the sudden disturbance. I could hear something unlocking the door, and then a loud thud, as if he had lifted some sort of lever. The door was left open, a bright light seeping into my sight, more than what had been showing in through the small window in the door. I shoved my face into my pillow. Suffocate yourself Kellin, just end it here. Let me take control of it, I can hold it there long enough.

"No." My word came out muffled, thankfully, and as a whimper. The counselor pulled something out, which sounded as a clipboard, and then I briefly heard the click of a pen.

"What did you say?" I shook my head into the pillow, denying what I had previously said. "How did you sleep, this being your first night, of course?" Turning my head to face him directly, I saw today he had glasses on. He wore a long white cloak, something doctors would wear in a hospital.

"Okay, I guess. The bed is a bit softer than my own, so that was weird. It kept me up for a while, I'm sure I'll get used to it, though." He nodded, and scribbled down notes onto the clipboard. Probably writing out word for word what I just said. "What time is it?" I murmured. He lifted his arm, pulled back his sleeve slightly, and squinted at the watch hidden underneath.

"Currently, it is 11:22am. We wouldn't normally let anyone sleep in late like we have you, but since it is your first night, we do want you to feel comfortable here, as you will be here for a period of time." I nodded and rubbed the sleep hidden in the crevices of my eyes. I sat up in my bed, denying my body's need to cuddle into my pillows and blanket. My head ached, probably from all of my sobbing from last night.

You're such a pussy Kellin. I know.

As I looked around, I found my eyes hurt. You know that feeling when you first wake up, probably overly dehydrated, and when you look anywhere other than straight ahead, it feels like there is a pounding headache behind your eyes? That's what I was feeling. I quickly shut my eyelids and rubbed at them with both of my hands. Every part of me ached, most likely from whatever position I fell asleep in last night.

"Does your head hurt?" I nodded, refusing to stop rubbing my eyes. He scribbled something down quickly, and then I heard muffled noise of a walkie talkie. "Can I get some pills for to take in Room D20? He has a headache."

"On it right now, thanks."

"Kellin, can you tell me how you feel? Not physically, but mentally? Tell me what you're thinking right now." What was I thinking? I was thinking of a vast amount of things. My mind contemplated grabbing the pen from his hand and stabbing myself in the neck with it, hoping death might welcome me this time. It should've been done last time. I wasn't supposed to survive, I was supposed to bleed out and let the darkness overcome me willingly. Breathing shouldn't be a thing right now, I should be haunting anyone and everyone whoever made me miserable as a person. I should be dead. My mind wandered to Vic. Him and his friend wore normal clothes, as the other two people in the room had, and I was stuck in a mental patient costume. Considering where I was, it made sense. But was I really mental? Definitely. Why else would you be here? You fail at everything, you can't even kill yourself correctly. My eyebrows furrowed, and I was becoming restless. I need relief, I need to make the voices go away for a long time. Hurting myself was my only cure, for a short period. Sometimes, if I cut deep enough, they would disappear for a few days max. Why couldn't I just have my relief? Why didn't anybody understand that I needed it. I needed to feel free of the pain. Even if it was momentary. Every cut was worth it, even if they covered my whole body. Whilst being here for a short time, I was already hated by the unrealistic, so-to-speak, bitch of a ginger. I made someone get taken away, but was it really my fault? He had touched me… right? There was the off-chance that I could've touched his hand, and he just hadn't pulled away. I could've done it when I was lost in his luscious eyes. It's always your fault, Kellin. You only have yourself to blame.

"Kellin?" The counselor snapped his fingers in my face, and I looked back at him. "Are you okay?" I did it again.

"Yeah, I was just thinking." I responded. He made a 'hmpf' sound in reply to acknowledge his own disbelief. Was I really that bad of a liar? Once again, he scribbled some notes down. "Uhm," Simple and normal questions first. "How come I am the only one wearing clothes meant for crazy people?" I pinched the cotton, holding it out to him as if he couldn't really see what was in front of him.

"You don't get to wear any of your clothes until a week after being here. It helps you to better understand that we make the rules here, and you can not, and will not break them. Ever. It influences discipline, and teaches you that you can't always get what you want here." He nodded at me, which led me to just shrug my shoulders and roll my eyes.

"Okay, uhm, I think that's the only question I had.." I bit my lip to think, and the counselor got up from where he sat. "Wait, what's your name?" It was a struggle having to call him 'the counselor' all the time.

"Audric." I scrunched my nose, there was no way I could remember that.

"Uh, right. Mr. Counselor it is." Mr. Counselor breathed in deeply, trying to stay calm. He motioned for me to get up and follow him outside of my room. I hadn't paid attention when I had walked down this hallway, but it was long, and looked as a hotel corridor. Except it was missing the occasional ugly painting planted amongst the oddly striped walls. These walls were empty, except for the occasional red button, and were covered in an ugly light brown mixed with green. The look made me want to vomit.

I shut my door directly behind me and saw a plaque-looking thing hanging from my door, as well as the rooms across from me, and next to me.

Name: Kellin Quinn Bostwick

Age: 17

Release date: TBA

Why did they have to put Bostwick on the door? Not everyone needed to know my supposed last name.

I followed Mr. Counselor down the corridor to a door. It was built the same as every other door down the hallway, except it had a black square resting at the place where a door handle would normally belong. Mr. Counselor placed his hand on it, and it was suddenly unlocked and he pressed forward through it.

He held the door open for me, and then closed it as I exited the hallway. "That, back there, scans your palm. Every patient who lives on your same corridor has to place their hand on the pad to get in. If you are from a different floor, it will deny you access." I nodded, that was way too scientific and completely unnecessary. Instead of a long set of stairs, they were linoleum ramps. Figures. Anyone could throw themselves down the stairs to die or hurt themselves. With the ramp, the most you could do was roll down to the very bottom and end up with the pounding headache and a few bruises tainted on the person's pale skin. We continued down the ramp, passing doors with the same pad thing, and a sign next to it in bold letters revealing where it led.

CAFETERIA

Read the door that we stopped at. He had me press my own palm to the pad. I placed it on the cold surface, and the door unlocked. I pushed through, refusing to wait for Mr. Counselor. The smell of food was enticing, I hadn't eaten anything in at least two full days. The cafeteria was large and filled with circled tables with chairs attached to the legs of the table. Probably so no one could get angry and throw chairs at people. That sort of thing would happen here.

"I'll ask someone to help you figure out how the system works, and I will leave you be. They will tour you around for the day, and get you to your necessary group sessions and stop in's with me." Without saying goodbye, he marched off towards someone sitting across the cafeteria in search of someone who could help me out.

* * *

A/N: I am so sorry this took so freaking long! I've been stressed lately, and my mom is forcing me into counseling and yeahh. It's pretty rad. I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I will hopefully be updating soon, no promises tho! TOOK ME THREE DAYS TO WRITE THIS CHAPTER TO COMPLETION CAUSE I CAN'T MAKE UP MY FREAKING MIND! Oh well haha.

**More Kellic to come!**


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